The Limits of the Con
by WildHorseFantasy
Summary: Rated T for implications. Neal is in back in prison for a crime he didn't commit.  When other cons want his help escaping there is more at stake than his freedom. Can he pull off the ultimate con to save a child's life?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own White Collar, just imagining their adventures to stay sane during the looooong hiatus. Thanks to those who created it and bring it life.

Neal Caffrey picked at the undefinable glob of meat on his plate and glanced around the cafeteria. He could scarcely believe he was back in prison, much less like this. He was in a more secure area of the super max, reserved for informants, child molesters and people in danger from the general population . He'd already spent a week in the 'Hole' also known as isolation, when Captain Daskin caught him flirting with a guard. He hadn't even picked her pocket. And he'd thought prison was bad enough before. He tried not to hear the low whispers of the nearby pair of men who were known rapists. A gush of relief swept him when finally abandoned the cafeteria and a guard told him that he had a visitor. The familiar face and suit may well have been the most comforting thing he'd seen in a long time.

"Peter, tell me you found something."

"Working on it. Got a lead, but it's not enough to get you out. Not yet."

Neal covered his fear with indignation. "It's insulting. Do they really think I'd be stupid enough to steal that painting when my tracker could prove I was in the museum? Do you?"

"They think it's so stupid they think you'd think we'd believe you were innocent." Peter snorted, shaking his head.

Neal felt some faint relief at that. In spite of the cons he'd pulled, Peter believed him. That wasn't something he'd taken for granted.

"Of course, it's a wonder to me that all the art museums don't have your picture circulated as person non grata. And the Matisse...I remember when we found Fowler's bug. You were talking to El and she had an event at the Met. You got all dreamy about that very Matisse, hanging by the fire exit. "

"You really need to work on your motivational speeches, Peter. And there is nothing wrong with dreaming."

"Dreaming? Sometimes I wonder whether you know the difference. You see, you want and the next thing you know...you're in trouble again. Anyway, we're trying to get camera footage. If we can even prove you were somewhere else between the time it was last seen and when it was taken it will help."

Neal sighed. "Red tape?"

"Some people are asking why we're acting like your private legal force."

"You won't give up?"

"No." Peter studied him, and Neal knew the fear wasn't hidden from Peter. His friend opened his mouth, closed it, pursed his lips. Finally he said, "June said to tell you your room isn't going anywhere."

Neal smiled faintly, "tell her I said thanks."

"Mozzie been to see you?"

"Of course, he's my lawyer."

"Well, you can let him know we're looking." Peter looked uncomfortable. He got up to leave and Neal looked at him. He squeezed his shoulder on the way out, leaving Neal to deal with the fear and boredom.

Peter parted from Neal with no small amount of grief. He wanted to run back in and haul him out with him. He shook his head, resting it against the steering wheel of his car for an instant before starting the engine. He'd spent years trying to put Neal Caffrey in prison. He had no doubt that he'd done enough, from a purely legal standpoint, to nickel and dime himself into the place for many more years. He wasn't sure when he'd gone from wanting to punish him to wanting to save him. Prison, he was sure, would not reform Neal. Push him too hard and eventually he'd just find a way to run. He wouldn't feel he had anything left to lose. But now, now he did. He had Peter, Elizabeth, June, Mozzie, and all the people he could help. Neal wasn't the villain in the black hat some of his colleagues wanted to see him as. He wasn't really even a shade of gray. No, he was just a darker shade of the rainbow.

He forced himself to concentrate on the road. He was distracted by the memory of the tension in Neal's shoulder when he squeezed it in parting. The shadowed fear and weariness in his eyes lifting briefly with relieved joy when he met him in the private room. He had to get him out. Because if he didn't something would happen. Neal wouldn't just wait for someone else to deal with this, he'd take matters into his own hands. If only Peter could convince him that sometimes doing things the hard, legal way was worth the time and effort, he might feel he was getting reformed. And justice didn't involve watching Neal Caffrey go down for a crime he didn't commit. Even if he'd committed plenty and gotten away with them.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own White Collar. Thanks to those who do for making such a wonderful show I can't stop thinking about it.

Chapter 2

Alert, Neal Caffrey did his best to watch out for anyone who might stab him in the back as an informant while not overhearing the wrong sordid details from the wrong people.

"We've already got her."

"How? He's a guard. There'd be a lock down if he knew."

"Supposed to be away visiting an aunt. Had some people go in and get her."

"So how are we going to get out? You figure he gets in the way we threaten her?" Voice two sounded doubtful.

"She's a kid. Five. Trust me, for a kid, they'll back down. And they've already smuggled in a gun."

Neal hardly breathed, glanced around and considered whether he should relocate and fast. Running would be conspicuous. Even walking might attract their attention if they stood too close. Or should he listen and hope he could hear something to help the mysterious 'her'?

A sudden sharp poke told him he was too late. "Hey pretty boy. Interesting conversation?"

"I wouldn't know. I was busy admiring the view."

"I know who you are. You're Neal Caffrey. Bit of an escape artist I hear." The man yanked him back, spun him around and shoved him against a wall.

Neal mentally kicked himself as he realized that he had been standing out of view of guards and cameras. For a thief or attacker it was the ideal location to steal or assault from. For a convict who had a knife at his throat it was a nightmare.

"You're going to show us how you did it."

"I doubt that would work again guys." The knife dug in and the other man, bigger, twisted his arm. Neal champed his tongue, retain his poker face.

"That ain't what he asked you." Knife man had a small weasely face, a smile that was too bright, eyes very dark like black holes.

Neal's lips tightened. He hated giving these guys help on an escape, but the idea of being knifed was bad too.

"What's in it for me?"

"You get to keep living."

Caffrey cocked his head. "This is my third strike. I'll be in here for life. That's not my idea of living. Especially with Daskin breathing down my neck."

Weasel face exchanged glances with the bigger, bald man. "We've got the out from a certain point. You can come with us. But you come all the way. We don't separate until we confirm you're not going to betray us."

"How do I know you can do this?"

"We've got the plans, knives and a gun. It would help to have a key. We heard you knew how to make one."

"I've done it. They won't exactly let me have the stuff to work with I had before. The guards know what I can do with it."

"You just tell me what you need and I'll get you access."

Neal held the man's eyes, shrugged free of baldy and nodded. "Okay. I'm in. This is what I'll need..."

Neal Caffrey collaborated on their plan and forced a nonchalance he did not feel going back to his cell. They were going to be watching him and he'd be watching right back. This may well be the con of a lifetime.

Peter Burke grinned with satisfaction. The art thief had made a mistake. Mozzie had found someone who knew someone that was trying to sell the missing Matisse. He wasn't keen on cooperating with the feds, but he was very enthused about clearing Neal. Anyway, apparently he and Neal both knew the guy by reputation at least and didn't get along with him. More importantly, the information could be confirmed. To top it off, they'd found a tour group who had loaned them their vacation video and photos. In the background, about the time the Matisse had been snatched, Neal Caffrey was strolling out the front door of the Met, clearly empty handed and with nowhere to hide anything.

Peter was leaning back, smiling back in satisfaction when Hughes leaned in the door. A dark shadow fell over his pleasure. Hughes never seemed to have good news.

"We've cleared Caffrey..." Peter started.

"He's escaped. Again. And he's taken a killer and a child molester with him."

Peter gaped. "No way he'd cooperate with people like that willingly."

"Whatever the reason..."

"I'm already on it..." Peter grabbed his coat and hurried out the door. "Neal, what are you up to?"


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own White Collar. Thanks to those who made this wonderful show.

**Chapter 3**

Neal's heart was hammering so hard he was sure everyone could hear it. He'd been forced to spend time with his new acquaintances to use their tape deck to strip the key card. Conning them was no easy thing. One of them was a killer but he was in for a lesser charge. It was no secret among the populace that he'd been acquitted of killing a child, but bragged about it. That's why he was in the special protected section. Other inmates would've ripped him apart. The other he knew less about, but he made his living selling less than savory goods, the kind of things, the fences Neal chose to work with- like Mozzie and Alex, wouldn't touch with a fifty foot pole. Pretending he admired them, or at least was willing to work with them was harder than the average con.

He couldn't do anything about the planned riot. All he could do was go along and keep his two companions from doing further harm. They had already worked their way close to the end with the external gates so that when trouble started elsewhere it was just a matter of Caffrey's magic key getting them out. The thought crossed his mind that the warden would not be pleased with him for using his own pass code to escape. Normally, he'd have been amused. Shouts from behind came from the rioting inmates. Neal glanced around, half hoping someone would notice and stop them, half terrified they would and his attempts at avoiding bloodshed would come to naught. The getaway car rushed up at a prearranged schedule, and Neal dove in with the other two. He glanced back as they escaped.

"Care for a little celebration?"

Neal glanced back at Mallet, the bald guy. "What kind?"

"Wait until Captain Daskin finds out we have his daughter. You ever tried a really young one?"

"Not that young. Not my style" He'd known the guy was in for assault. He didn't know he was into what he seemed to be implying. He ordered his twisting stomach to shut up and stay put, wishing he could take a shower or two, or three. He wanted to wash out his ears and mouth, just from listening to and talking their language.

"Had many run ins with Daskin?" Weasel asked.

"A few." Neal answered honestly. Daskin had no sense of humor whatsoever. Neal Caffrey had no problem with most of the guards. They did their jobs, he did what he did and sometimes he got away with stuff and he didn't take it too personally when they checked him. Mostly they didn't take it too personally either when they found he'd pulled a fast one. But Daskin...Neal remembered him from before he'd broken out to find Kate. He hadn't been a captain then. But he'd definitely written him up, and Neal didn't like him. Still, as far as Neal knew the man wasn't corrupt or cruel. And he certainly didn't see any reason to bring a child into it.

* *

Peter Burke had a sense of deja vu. He sat on Neal Caffrey's bunk, looking through the things he'd left, just like the first time he'd escaped. There was one huge difference. Then he'd just been concerned with bringing him back, if a bit curious as to his motives. Now he was worried about him. What threats had been used to get him to go with these low lifes?

A pencil and notepad were lying beside him. He flipped through a stack of sketches. He paused at the small sketches of people he knew. Elizabeth, June, Satchmo, himself. A smile tugged his lips and he shook his head. Neal had drawn him with that silly mustache. His eyes lit on some indentations above the picture. Narrowing his eyes, he picked up the soft lead pencil and colored lightly and then faster. Words, gibberish or a code? Lost in thought he mentally ran down a list of codes he knew off the top off his head, no, no, no, wait. A shift cipher depending on a keyword? But what was the keyword?

His eyes roved around the room, back to the page...and a dog head was above the code. The corner of his lip curled up. Using Satchmo as the key, he deciphered the code.

"They have Amber Daskin. I can find her. I'll call you Mario...PS they had already had a way out."

Peter rolled his eyes at the 'Mario', as he dialed his cell. "Yeah, Jones, look up someone named Amber Daskin. Sounds like a kidnapping..." as he hung up, the warden peered in frowning.

"Agent Burke...what's that about Amber Daskin?"

"You know her?"

"I think that's Captain Daskin's daughter. She's five? Six? What has she got to do with Caffrey?"

Peter eyes widened and the hair on his arms raised. Chilled by realization he demanded, "where is this Captain now?"

They met in a conference room.

Daskin's had a grim face, and a perpetual scowl, at least when he was working. "It's probably nothing. The inmates don't like me, but my family is safe in New Jersey visiting my wife's sister."

"Call. Make sure. Now." Peter was already on the phone to Diana, getting her to check the location of the Daskin's extended family and looking for police reports.

He was watching Daskin when the man frowned, tried a number, waited, tried again. With each number he got more tense, his hand started to shake. "Come on. Answer!"

Diana came back on. "The locals have found two dead adult bodies on scene, called in by a woman. Mrs. Daskin claims she left her daughter there when she went out with friends. She just got back right when I was talking to them."

Peter felt his stomach ache as he realized he'd have to break the news to the captain. Or maybe he wouldn't. The captain was watching him, must have seen the look in his eyes.

"No. Oh No. Please No." The man crumpled, the tough prison guard reverted to loving, crushed parent in a breath.

Peter lips tightened. "We'll find her."

"Murderers have my daughter. Not my baby please..."

"We have an edge."

The man ignored him, rocking.

"Neal Caffrey is my CI. And if he left a note saying he can find her, than he believes he can find her."

Daskin jerked his head up, glaring through teary eyes. "He's a criminal and lies for a living and you trust him with my daughter's life?" His voice rose to a shriek at the end.

Peter met the panicked fury calmly. "I would trust him with mine. With my wife. I'd trust that if he broke in and robbed some rich guy of his paintings and found a child locked in a closet he'd let it out and get it to safety even though he knew the child could id him. You can't trust him with just anything. But to save an innocent child? Oh yes. I trust him with that."

"You've staked your career on it." Daskin was blinking at him in realization. He shoved dark hair back out of his eyes, scrubbed at his light growth of beard. "Do you think he really can do it, even if he wants to?"

"If anyone can pull a con it's him." Peter replied. But even as he did so, he wondered. This was no White Collar crime, no forgery or theft. This was evil, a perversion, a different kind of con altogether. And if he was made, they'd kill him. Somehow, knowing Neal had survived dangerous situations before he caught him, was small comfort.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. This was done for fun, not profit.

Neal changed clothes in a friend of Weasel's back room, putting on jeans and a used t-shirt. He felt less than comfortable. It was the company, not the clothes making him feel filthy.

"That's it? There is supposed to be twenty grand!"

"The buyer fell through. Got busted."

"By the cops? Are they on to us?"

Hesitation, then "By his wife. She's divorcing him. She gets everything or she goes to the cops."

Mallet was eyeing Neal. "You said you done business with some of our kind of clientele.

"Occasionally they like a painting to commemorate the occasion. Paid for some ahh, accessories I needed on a few jobs."

"Got one you can call in a hurry? Pictures for cash?"

"Sure." Neal improvised smoothly. "My accountant. Want me to call him?"

Peter's cell rang and he frowned uncertainly at the unfamiliar number. "B"...he checked his usual greeting, his gut clamoring a warning.

"Peter Lassiter, please." Neal's familiar voice was too polite. Peter's heart jumped.

"Speaking."

"Got a deal you might be interested in. Photos for cash. Your favorite age, you can sell on what you don't like."

Peter's eyes narrowed, analyzing the words. The kidnappers were listening.

"I told you never to call me here. If anyone found out..." he played along.

"No-one will. We need the cash now."

"How much?"

"Twenty grand."

Peter gaped at the phone. He didn't need to fake his shock. "I don't have an account I can rout all that out of unnoticed that fast."

"We can take credit. Use different cards, spread it out, plus a routing number or two and it'll look legit."

"You sure I'll like this?"

"Yeah."

"Where do I meet you?"

"Central park, an hour..." voices murmured and he heard Neal arguing. "Only you won't meet me. Friend of mine. Scruffy brown hair and a gray sweatshirt."

Peter chewed his lip for a moment. They didn't trust Neal out of their sight. Didn't trust it wasn't a trap. But they must've been desperate for cash. "Fine."

"Now, while Clay there is meeting our money man, you get to take a quiz."

Neal turned sharply as Weasel eyed him. His sharp eyes glittered and Neal felt as if something were crawling up his leg. He fought the urge to shift.

"Got something to show you. We ready with the video camera?"

"Yep. All set. Wait'll the captain gets to see what you do to his daughter."

"Good." Weasel smiled at Neal and the crawly sensation increased. Insect feet were all over him. His brain buzzed frantically, trying to come out with a way to stall, keep them away from the child. "Our new pal here gets to go first."

He motioned to Neal, who followed, legs moving on auto pilot. He wasn't happy to find five more people as they entered the upstairs room. His insides quivered with near nausea.

"Why him? We only held off because we figured you had first take. Thought you'd like that."

"I would. But...well, we couldn't be here without him."

"First what?" Neal finally demanded, using every ounce of power to keep his voice steady.

"The girl of course. Smack her around, give her an idea what her Daddy's really like." Neal slowly went to the door he motioned to and looked in the room. The little girl really did have amber hair, just like her name. She was tied up and gagged. She lay on a bare mattress on a heavy old metal bed. Her green eyes were huge and red rimmed with crying. The door opened inwards, a window high off the ground let in gray light. Behind him, eyes bored into him. Weasel through his arm around him, "what are you waiting for?"

Another grabbed the vid cam, moved it toward the room.

Neal's mind often seemed to work at light speed. Right now, he was hyper aware of everything. He was aware of the child's terror, his own nausea and the certain realization that he loathed the men behind him as much as he hated anyone since the person who killed Kate. And he was aware that he'd finally found a con he couldn't finish, even to save his life or someone else's. Because the only way to finish was to become one of them. He grabbed the camera and slammed it into Weasel, elbowing the carrier out of the way. He dove into the room, kicked the door shut and grabbed the heavy bed. He yanked with prodigious strength, slamming it against the door.

Behind him, the door shook hard. The girl squealed, rolled off, trying to scoot to the wall. He kneeled beside her. "It's okay. I'm here to take you home."

Her terror filled eyes told him he wasn't convincing her. "I'll get you out of here...I'm sorry, this might hurt." He pulled the gag out and untied her. Her wrists were cut where the ropes had sliced her.

"I want to go home." She shivered, still cringing. "How do we get out?"

Neal glanced around. That, of course was the problem. There was only one door, and some very angry men behind it.

Peter Burke AKA Peter Lassiter sat on a bench with a laptop awaiting the mysterious gray sweatshirt.

The man leaned onto a lamp post next to him. "Got the numbers?"

"If you've got the goods."

The man held up a flash drive. Peter took the drive, input the password. One password got him a gig of files, which he traded for one credit card number. He marveled that anyone would casually fork over their credit card number like this, but he knew it happened often enough. The need to be sneaky about the reallocation of cash for the illegal outweighed not only fear of punishment, but common sense. Peter fought down the urge to cringe as he saw what was on the flash drive. He curled his fingers around the bench seat, fighting the desire to haul off and deck the man who would consider this fun. Gray Sweatshirt was leaving.

"You're on." He murmured into his wire.

A lovely, dark haired, woman stormed through the park, striding at high speed. "I've had enough! Don't call me anymore. You'll find your things in the hall." She strode toward Gray Sweatshirt, head turned and looking over her shoulder.

Behind her, a dark skinned man ran after, hands outstretched pleadingly. "Honey, let me explain..."

She pulled up short looking behind her and glaring. Gray Sweatshirt moved to step around her as the man reached for her arm and she ducked aside. She crashed into him.

He flailed, nearly falling. "Hey, watch it!"

She ignored him.

"Honey, don't take it out on strangers. Let me help..."He grabbed the man's arm and pulled him up. Two fingers casually dropped an object into the man's pocket.

Gray shirt broke loose and nearly ran to get away from the fighting love birds. As soon as he was out of sight, they stopped. Turning as one and hurrying to meet Peter in the van.

"Great job, guys. Oscar material. Neal would be proud."

"When did he become our standard?" Diana asked.

"You got to admit, he has a lot of fun at it." Jones remarked.

"Too much. Look at all the trouble it gets him in!" Peter fretted as Jones took his place at the computer, studying the GPS chip he'd slipped into the man's pocket. "Now, let's just hope this works and we can get him and that little girl out!"

"What's on the drive?"

"You don't want to know. Apparently these guys will grab any kid, anywhere, for any reason." Peter shook his head, holding up the evidence bag with the flash drive like it was slimy. "I really want to take these guys down. Hang on Neal. We're coming."

"Will he wait? I mean, he might get the kid out and keep going, rather than risk going back. He doesn't know we cleared him yet." Diana pointed out.

Peter just shook his head. "We just have to hope."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. Thanks to those who invented and keep White Collar so much fun.

~ Thanks to everyone whose come along for the story. Hope you've enjoyed it!~

Neal looked sharply at the girl. "Amber, you have to be very brave. I know how to get us out."

"How do you know my name? Do you know my Daddy? They want to hurt him!"

"Yes, I know him. Now, I'm going to pick you up and lift you through the window. I'll follow you. Hold on tight and don't move until I get there. We're on the second floor." He pried at the latch above his head and shoved the window up.

"Okay." The little girl cringed, uncomfortable, as he picked her up and she climbed through. "Oh."

He pulled herself after, working his way onto the narrow ridge. Amber held onto a drain pipe. WHAM! The door shook even harder and a screech informed Caffrey the bed was starting to move under the kidnappers combined weight. Taking the small girl's hand he inched his way along working his way along the ledge, shifted carefully around a corner.. Shrieek! He worked his way further over, finally found an open window. He climbed into a rundown room, heard a tv in the next and made his way to the next room, Amber quiet at his side. A crash next door, yells, and a much closer banging.

Amber looked scared. "Their coming in!" Her small palm was sweaty in his.

Neal hauled her to the next room, quickly spotted another window, this one over a fire escape. He helped the child out after him. Glancing up he was just in time to see a head pop out and turn back with a cry. Amber gasped. He nudged her on, and she rushed down the ladder. Sirens rang in the distance as enemy followed them out of the window. Amber froze at the end, staring. It was still too high for her to jump down. He moved over her, jumped down and held his arms up. She hesitated, shaking her head.

"Amber, hurry!" Neal cried urgently beneath her.

She looked up, saw her kidnappers following, squealed and jumped. He caught her easily. He ran, not taking time to sort out whether the pounding of feet behind him and yells to stop were friend or foe.

Peter's swore silently. They'd followed the gray sweatshirt man straight back to the apartment and rounded up a slew of people. They found evidence a child had been held, ropes untied and a damaged video camera. But no Neal and no Amber. And every one of the the bad guys immediately lawyered up. All of the escapees - minus Neal - were accounted for.

"The good news is there's no blood." Diana said. "And we have a witness that says they saw someone come out the window."

"With a kid?"

She smiled grimly and shook her head. "Can't be sure."

Neal picked the lock, shoved the door open.

"Can we just go in?" Amber asked.

"Yeah, they won't mind."

"When can I go home?"

"Soon. We'll call from inside."

A big yellow labrador met them at the door, and Amber ducked behind him.

"It's okay. It's just Satchmo. Hey Satch." He rubbed the dog's head and went in. Neal collapsed on the couch. Introduced to the dog, the little girl put her arms around him and spoke in his ear. He watched her for a moment, trying to decide which was more urgent, the need for a shower, or the need for a nap. He couldn't do either until Amber had someone with her, but once help arrived he'd be hauled back to jail. And he couldn't just leave her alone. He sighed. Being friends with a fed was a double edged sword. He knew Peter would help him. He'd also chase him to the ends of the earth if he ran. Peter Burke was nothing if not consistent on the his sense of duty.

Satchmo pulled loose and headed for the door again. Amber and Neal both jumped as the front door opened, but only Neal relaxed when Elizabeth came in. "Hey Satchmo..." She looked surprised, but not overly, to see Neal on the couch. He had surprised her before. "Neal, what are you doing here...and whose this?" She gave Amber a friendly smile.

Amber ducked back next to Neal. "This is Amber Daskin. I need to call Peter, can you ahh, stay with her?"

The child looked at him uncertainly.

"It's okay, Amber, she's a friend."

"Do you want something to eat?" Elizabeth offered her a hand, raised her brows at Neal and lead the child into the kitchen while Neal picked up the phone.

"Neal! Where are you?" Peter sighed, closing his eyes as he listened. "And Amber? Yeah, we got them. Five. That's all you saw? ...Good. Stay there. I mean it, stay there, so we can work this out."

He nodded. Disconnecting the number, he redialed. "Yeah. Get Amber Daskin's parent's and meet me at my house...yes, I did say my house." Peter shook his head and ran back to his car. He'd feel better if he got to Neal before anyone else.

He got there just as they were pulling up. As he opened the door and a man and woman shoved in past him. "Amber?" cried

"Daddy," Amber yelled, diving away from petting the dog and leaping into her relieved father's arms. Elizabeth watched, smiling. Peter glanced at the child, being crushed by her parents. "El, where's Neal?"

Her lips tightened and her lips turned down doubtfully. "He's upstairs. He asked if he could take a shower. Said he felt filthy...it wasn't easy, getting to her. He had this...look on his face..haunted."

Peter wondered what Neal had told her and what she'd figured out for herself. He took the stairs two at a time. "Neal?"

The bathroom door was open. Neal was sitting on the floor in Peter's bathrobe. He was flushed and pink, even scratched and Peter realized he'd washed himself almost raw. The mouth wash was totally empty and it was a new bottle yesterday. He had his arms around his knees, face pressed against them.

"Neal..." Peter studied the young man, recognizing he was having one of his rare, vulnerable moments.

The young man glanced up. "They here?"

"Yeah. You couldn't pry them off the kid. Are you okay?"

Neal looked away uncomfortable. "I feel like I'll never get clean. I've never felt slimy after a con before."

"It's bad stuff." Peter shook his head, knowing it was an understatement. "Scared the heck out of me when I found out you were with them. Figured they'd threatened you..."

"They were going to hurt her...and record it...send it to him...they wanted me to..." Neal fell silent. "Well, what else could I do, when I found they had a kid? I had a chance to find her."

Peter kneeled beside him. "Hey...that was some con you pulled."

"Tried to pull. I finally found a con I couldn't handle. Even when lives were at stake. I'd have to become one of them, that's why I didn't wait for you..."

"You got her out. I'm proud of you, kid."

Neal looked up, startled. His eyes came back from whatever dark place he'd been seeing. "Even though I broke out? Am I in more trouble?"

"Aren't you always? But we cleared you right before you disappeared. I think I can convinced them this was all an undercover thing to rescue the girl. Even if it was unauthorized and we had no forewarning. I'm sure we can work it out."

Neal wondered about Peter's faith in the system, but decided to accept it. He sighed with relief, leaning his head back against the door. "I'm tired. And I want to go home." He opened his eyes wearily. "Can I? Please tell me I don't have to spend more time in prison while the paperwork is sorted out." He shivered.

Peter smiled. "I'm already working on it. It may take a few hours, even pushing it. But you won't have to go all the way back to the prison."

Neal got dressed, albeit reluctantly. He'd gone from orange jumpsuit,to jeans and a t-shirt and now he had to borrow Peter's clothes. It was hardly his style. But he couldn't bear to wear what the kidnappers had given him. Who knew who had worn them last, or what they had done? He slowly went down the stairs, wincing and then plastering on his best carefree look when he saw Daskin, US marshals and other law enforcement officers talking to Peter. He was still afraid someone would grab him, slap on the cuffs and charge him with who knew what.

"Neal!" The five year old waved.

The mom glanced up at him. Captain Daskin glanced up, away, came back for a longer look. Uncertainly, Neal stared back and shrugged.

"Come on, we need to let the doctor check you out, honey." The woman turned and looked at Neal. "Thank you for saving her." She reached out and gripped his hand. Her eyes were glistening. He just nodded. She elbowed Daskin. He muttered something, hung back. She left, with Amber waving a goodbye to Neal.

He waited until the others were out the door, eyes following his wife and child. "Caffrey...thank you." He almost choked on it, and Neal recognized the effort. Daskin couldn't so easily reconcile his usual 'all criminals are scum' attitude with the former convicts actions. He glanced at Burke questioningly.

"He's in the clear. Just paperwork. He's not going back." Peter smiled, but silently to himself added "I hope." Caffrey had a real habit of jumping in where angels feared to tread.

Daskin sighed as he walked out the door. He paused and looked back. "I won't forget this. I mean, I don't mean I'd let you get away with anything. But...I'm glad it's not an issue. "

Neal smiled faintly, "Me too."

"And...if you need any help clearing this up with the DA and the warden, I'll be sure they know...you took care of her. You got her out."

Neal nodded. "I appreciate that."

Daskin left and Neal stood in the door, watching the car pull away.

His smile faded as Peter said, "We do need to go and deal with the paperwork, Neal."

Neal looked at him, pleadingly. "Now? But..." He looked down at the borrowed outfit, nose wrinkling.

"Why don't you call Mozzie and get him to bring you some clothes?" Elizabeth spoke up suddenly. "That way, you can stay with Peter and not with the marshals while the paperwork is going through."

Peter looked at her, surprised.

Neal stared at Peter. "You said I wouldn't have to go back..."

"I said you wouldn't have to go to prison. The local jail in isolation or even handcuffed in the conference room, maybe..." He paused, recognizing the shadow crossing Neal's face. It was amazing how their relationship could shift between close trusting friends to cop and con in a moment. He sighed. "El is right. I don't want you to go back. You can stay with me in the office until it's sorted out."

Neal relaxed a little, then remembered how this mess had started. "Who was it anyway? Who took the Matisse?"

"Guy named Harry Samlin. It looks like he scouted for awhile, then made his move while you were there on purpose. Apparently he knew you would be interested in the exhibit that weekend. He bragged to a friend he could pull off a job so good they'd blame the ..., well, you for it."

Neal made a face. "Oh, him! They thought I did a job that third rate...that's...wait, blame the what? What did he really say Peter?"

Peter hesitated. He'd knew he'd regret telling him. But Neal was staring at him and finally he relented. "The great Neal Caffrey."

Neal grinned then frowned. "Insulted and complimented on the same job. Nice to know I'm a standard, but to be mistaken for a third rate thief..."

"I think he was being sarcastic."

"I think he was being jealous. I sto...well, hypothetically, he might think I did beat him to the punch once. He found out after he tried it and did time for it anyway."

"You let him go down for it? Something he didn't do?"

Neal huffed. "I said I _hypothetically_ I might have beaten him to the punch. He thought I did. And I didn't say he didn't do anything. He flattened a security guard. Broke his jaw."

Peter rolled his eyes at this. It was the closest he was going to get to a confession. It was just as well, it would put him in an awkward position. "Go on, call Mozzie. Get him to bring you your antique clothes."

"They're Devore. Classic Rat Pack."

"Classic cartoon."

"Vintage." Neal grinned, grabbing the phone off the table. "Now your mustache, that was classic cartoon..."

Peter glared at him, glanced at El, who had a hand over her mouth stifling a giggle. "Right. Just when I got used to peace and quiet..." But he knew, even as he said it, that life would never feel normal again without Neal Caffrey around.

******The END*******


End file.
